


Loss

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, FrostIron - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:03:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the villain who loved and the man who forgot (this has some serious angst, so i feel it is my duty to warn you that if you are a fan of happy endings, this story is not for you)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss

            “The fucking Hulk-“ Loki sneered weakly as he lay still on his back, his limbs feeling weak, his eyes wide from the shock of the attack that refused to subside. “Animal,” he rasped, finally closing his eyes, welcoming the darkness of the back of his eyelids. In the distance, he heard the faint screams of terrified Midgardians, the sounds of cars crashing, the whoosh of Hawkeye’s arrows and the grunting of that _beast_. It was all a lullaby to him. Especially knowing that they would loose. It was all a matter of time.

            A sudden noise interrupted his peace. He heard _his_ name. “Stark, no!” cried a female voice. The Black Widow. The one he fooled into thinking that she could outwit him. Pathetic bitch. “Tony,” she screamed again and Loki opened his eyes unwillingly, the familiar name making him cringe.

            Surely, Anthony was miles away right now, just as they had agreed. Loki warned him there would be danger. He told him over and over to stay in his bunker. That he would come for him after it was all done.

            He remembered it well, their last night together. One of the many… his bronze skin against the pale white sheets. Sometimes, he would ask him to ‘turn blue’ for him. And Loki would. He would let his Aesir disguise slowly fade away, taking his time, savoring the childlike amazement that filled the amber eyes. He would then simply stare at the now beaming face, taking in every line of his tanned skin, finding it humorous how an appearance that had caused horror and fear somewhere else was now the sole reason behind the pure happiness of the man in front of him.

            Loki remembered how the puny mortals had really thought that they had captured him with the glass prison, believed that they could cage the God of Mischief. They could not have been more wrong. Loki was about to escape, about to vanish from behind the clear walls and spill their blood, one by one. He would have done so, if it were not for the Man of Iron. Loki recalled the first time he had met Tony Stark, quite surprised by his arrogant, selfish attitude and the strangely soft, always laughing amber eyes. At first, they were just that: meetings. Tony would tell the others he was going to ‘extract’ some ‘information’ out of Loki, telling them that one day, he was sure the trickster was bound to crack. Only he never came for that, it was something else that was bringing Anthony Stark back to the frost giant. Loki was surprised by his foolish interest, amused even, but then again, the man was the only thing keeping him there. Soon, the meetings grew into one-night stands. If you could call them that, since the ‘ _one_ -night’ stands happened three or four times. A week.

            Tony often said that his true form turned him on (which Loki found _strangely_ pleasing), and he would ask him to change just before he’d take him. And sometimes, Loki would forget to turn back, and he would fall asleep, his ice cold Jotun skin against Tony’s, his sapphire arms wrapped around him. And they would wake up a few hours later, with Tony shivering wildly in his arms, and Loki would laugh, fading back to his warmer disguise. Usually, those scenes were followed by hot showers. And usually, the hot showers came with hot sex. 

            Loki lied still in the living room of the penthouse he knew too well, listening attentively, hoping that he would not hear _his_ name again, worry creeping into his mind. Surely, Tony had listened.

            Another choked cry of the familiar name startled him, and he got up slowly, his head still hurting from the fight (if you could call it that, since the green monster hadn’t given him a chance to fight back). He made his way to the crashed window, the one he had ‘thrown’ Tony out of. It was all supposed to go by plan. Tony would fall, saved by his suit. Once in the suit, Tony _should_ have flown away. To his fucking bunker. Which obviously, he hadn’t.

            Once Loki made his way to the window he looked around, seeing no sign of _his_ Tony. Instead he searched for the red-haired woman, the one who had been the first to call the name. Her dark eyes were locked on the sky, her flaming hair pushed back by the wind. Loki followed her gaze, his own heart stopping in his chest. He blinked at the rapidly closing portal, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him or- that stupid bastard. All Loki could do was watch the red and gold disappear into the hole, speechless, his lips parted in surprise and his eyebrows knotted in worry. He had told Tony all about the portal, in exchange for his promise to steer clear of it. Of course, Tony was not the one to keep promises.

            An audible sigh of relief escaped his lips as he watched Tony fly back out, only his relief was short as he realized he was not flying – he was falling. Loki gritted his teeth and used all his might to teleport himself into the battle area, where his secret lover was about to crush. He had gone unnoticed by the Avengers, who were too focused on the falling man. To his surprise, Loki watched the green beast leap into the air, noticing Tony’s head get slammed against the building as Hulk used the wall to ease their fall. He was silent as he stood, watching and making sure that his teammates removed the mask once they were both back on the ground, pressing his lips into a hard line as the face behind it remained inanimate.

            Finally, he could not stand it anymore. He walked to the scratched suit and the broken man inside of it, pushing aside the wide-eyed Captain and his obviously confused brother (but then again, when wasn’t he?). Loki kneeled beside Tony, his heartbeat slowly starting to escalate as he checked for the vital signs. Low pulse. Labored breathing.

            “Fuck,” he snapped, glaring at the troll and then shifting his gaze to the other teammates, wanting to blame anyone but himself. “Fuck,” he repeated, dropping his gaze back to the limp body. He shook his head in disapproval, unable to keep his hands from shaking, not saying anything to the staring Avengers because he knew his shaky voice would give away the chaos inside.

            “What am I going to do with you,” he whispered to himself, his breathing growing labored and pained as the reality of the situation slowly sunk in. He stared blankly at the consequence of his actions, _his_ alone. Loki pushed away the guilt, not accustomed to the feeling. Tony wasn’t going to die.

            He gritted his teeth harder to stop the trembling of his lower lip (a sign of weakness, something Loki refused to show), and wrapped his armored arms around the broken suit. He swallowed hard and concentrated, closing his eyes and sighing softly. In a matter of seconds he had transported them both to the very same bunker Tony _should_ have stayed it. It resembled the penthouse, only neater. Tony had not even set foot in this place. How typical of him. 

            Loki cleared his throat as he walked over to the bed, placing Tony onto it, and tearing off the pieces of metal one by one, not caring of how mad his fuckbuddy was going to be when he woke up. If he woke up. Which he was going to.

            Finally, when all the iron was on the floor Loki leaned over Tony, not wasting any time as he placed his hands on either side of his chest and murmured the ancient spells that he had memorized as a child, his lips moving at a perfect rhythm and his eyes closed as he concentrated on not making a mistake. Once he was done Loki slowly pulled back, expecting something, anything. His hands were now shaking visibly and he placed them on the bed, pressing down on the mattress to hide the shaking even if he was the only conscious person in the rom. 

            His relief was too immense when Tony opened his eyes, the amber dull, the whites of his eyes pink. Loki leaned over him again, staring into the brown orbs. “Stark?” he said quietly, more quietly than he had planned to. “Stark?” he repeated with a little more confidence, his voice not silky smooth like it always was, but distorted and creaky with worry.

            “L-Loki,” was the first word, the one that tore a loud sigh of relief from Loki’s lips. The god blinked, a soft, faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Where am I? What happened?”

            Tony’s voice was broken, quivering. Loki chose to ignore that, ignore the confusion in his eyes, the slight trembling of his bottom lip, his nostrils that were flaring with panic. “You are in your bunker, Tony,” Loki said quietly, “You see, when I told you to come here, when I told you to stay here, you did not listen,” he scolded, shaking his head, “I was winning, the Avengers were failing, but no, you had to show up and ruin everything, you have no idea how- Tony?” Loki’s voice broke off as he noticed the confusion spread. “Tony, what is it?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows.

            “What battle?” the other rasped, shaking his head as if trying to clear his head from all the questions, trying to understand. “What battle- Av-avengers?” he whispered, stuttering as he spoke, his chest heaving. A million memories, a million thoughts rushed through his mind. He felt panic rise again, his whole world spinning around him, the emerald eyes staring at him, full of worry and puzzlement being the only things keeping still. “I don’t- I can’t remember-“ he choked out, shaking his head, “Loki-“ he groaned, the pain in his head slowly sinking in, making him close his eyes and press his lips into a hard line.

            “No, Tony,” Loki’s words were pained as realization set in, and he remembered the iron mask slamming hard against the wall of the building as the Hulk caught him, remembered how rough the contact was, rough enough to- “Tony, tell me what you remember-“ Loki ordered, his voice a little harsher, a desperate attempt to at least look like he still had control over himself.

            “I- We were-“ Tony grumbled shakily, trying hard to remember but only confusing himself more. It seemed that every time he tried to chase after a memory he lost another one. “Loki-“ he whispered as his mind fogged once again, and for a moment he remembered everything, or nothing – he could not quite tell. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus, but when he opened him again, the room looked foreign around him.

            His blurred vision focused on the prankster before him, and a faint smile tugged at his lips at the sight of the familiar face. “L-Loki,” he muttered. Loki’s face looked broken and pained. His emerald eyes darkening as comprehension sunk in. “Where am I? What happened?” Tony asked softly, the amber eyes searching the room.

 

* * *

 

            Months went by. Eventually years. And soon, it was decades. Loki found himself feeling stuck in one moment, and in some way, he was. His eyes were dull, the light in them extinguished. He sat slumped in his chair, looking at the sleeping man on the bed in front of him. His gaze was tired, bags under his eyes, contrasting against the pale skin.

            He stood up as he saw the man stir, walking over to the bed and sitting down next to the mortal. The mortal he gave up so much for. Tony’s face had aged. There were creases on his forehead, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled whenever he smiled. His voice changed, too. It was rougher, lower. His eyes didn’t look as bright as they always had. The chocolate brown was now dimmer. His hair was slowly turning grey. But Loki was used to the sight. Loki was used to it all. He was so used to it every second made him sick.

            “L-L-Loki?” the voice called, and Anthony Stark opened his eyes, looking up at the god whose face had not aged a second, the skin still smooth, the hair still perfectly black, ebony tresses flawless. Except now it was in a dark mess, the way it has been for too long. “Where am I? What happened?” he whispered, his own voice surprising him with how creaky it sounded.

            The trickster’s reply was a soft smile. “Good morning, Tony,” he answered, leaning down and kissing the dry lips gently. “You lost your memory,” he murmured softly, “Don’t try to remember, it will only make you hurt,” he continued, his eyes tearing up ever so slightly. He was so used to the words, having to speak them every day, sometimes twice a day. “Don’t worry, it’s only temporary,” he lied. He had told that lie over a thousand times. The God of Lies had never predicted that he could be so sick of a lie. But every word of it made him sick, every vowel that he had to force out of his lips disgusted him. “You’ll get better, Tony,” he whispered, and lied down next to Tony.

            It had been years since the accident, and Loki had not left his side. Only for food or water. The basic needs.

            Sometimes, Tony would remember nothing at all, not even his name. Although he always remembered Loki’s. Other times, he remembered some things, some memories. They were either good ones, like the nights the two had shared together, or the bad ones, like the night of his parents’ death. The bad ones were more frequent. On other occasions, he would remember everything. The battle. The accident. And ever minute since then. Those were the worst days. Tony would break into tears, realizing how much time he had lost, how much Loki had to sacrifice. He would cry, sob, until he drifted off to sleep. Loki would cry with him, every time. But when he woke up, it all started again.

            “Oh,” Tony nodded, “I’ll get better,” he repeated Loki’s lie, smiling softly, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes back. “I’ll get better,” he said once more, as if repeating the fucking fib made it more true. Loki nodded and wrapped his arms around the Man of Iron. Tony hugged back, not knowing why but knowing that it was the right thing to do. He smiled softly and closed his eyes again, his tired mind giving into the exhaustion. The constant fatigue. The never-ending weariness.

            “Yes, Tony,” Loki whispered back, kissing his greying hair. Now, the lie was all he had. He had told it so many times he believed it himself. Tony was going to get better. In the back of his mind, a tiny voice was telling him to stop. Because eventually, Tony would die. Tony would die, and Loki would be left alone. With no warmth. No amber eyes, even if they were always full of questions. Only guilt. “You’ll get better,” 


End file.
